A Light Heart Lives Long.

Winter, Which, Being Full Of Care, Makes Summer's Welcome Thrice More Wish'd, More Rare.

Better Three Hours Too Soon Than A Minute Too Late.

O, Let Him Pass. He Hates Him That Would Upon The Rack Of This Tough World Stretch Him Out Longer.

What Is Light, If Sylvia Be Not Seen? What Is Joy If Sylvia Be Not By?

Can I Go Forward When My Heart Is Here? Turn Back, Dull Earth, And Find Thy Centre Out.